tick, tock,
it's the clock.
time is ticking away,
it never stops.
drip, drop,
her blood is seeping.
rushing out of the open wounds,
it won't stop.
slash,
again some more.
she looks to the clock,
then back to the flow.
tick, tock.
drip, drop.
does it all matter?
at the end of the night,
she'll be dead no faster.
YOU ARE READING
short poetry || riley black
Poésiejust some short excerpts, not edited very much, but i will edit as i go along! reviews are appreciated, please enjoy! xo
